“Okay, I think we’d better get the drone back. We need her back in the air as an early warning system.” Jack pursed his lips in thought. “Captain, can we get a copy of this sent over to Captain Kreshenko without jeopardizing any secrets about Aegis?”
Captain Johnson nodded to the CIC watch commander, and in minutes, a copy was being run off digitally.
“Jack, I would feel much better keeping the ships in motion. Sitting anchored here like this is a little too reminiscent of Pearl Harbor.”
Jack nodded in agreement at Carl’s fear. “Captain?”
“I agree. It will take some time to coordinate with Peter the Great and then time to rig towlines up to Simbirsk, but yes, I would feel better in motion.”
Jack looked at the digital clock mounted on the bulkhead. “Say two hours?”
“We’ll make it less if possible,” Johnson said as he picked up the ship-wide communication.
By the looks of the faces manning their electronic gear in CIC, Collins knew the entire crew would feel better on the move. No one liked the aspect of sitting still and getting shot at.
“All right, let’s get with Jenks and Charlie and see if they believe we can get that phase shift up and running. I think it’s time we try to get our collective asses back to our world.”
They all started moving to the hatch, and as the marine guard opened it, it was Ryan as always who placed his mild form of damper on everything.
“Yeah, who wants to get their asses shot off here in Adventureland when we have a chance to do it at home?”
Colonel Salkukoff watched the command bridge from his place just beneath the forward missile mount. The automatic loading system would burst forth from a rubberized membrane and streak toward its intended target. But after the first two missiles ever fired in anger by Peter the Great in the North Atlantic against the Americans, Salkukoff knew she would never fire another. The movement that he could see beyond the thick glass told him that activity had picked up on the cruiser, which indicated that they had collectively made the decision to weigh anchor and be on the move. This was expected, and Salkukoff shook his head. He turned to the large man standing next to him. The commando was former Spetsnaz, the Russian equivalent of a navy SEAL or Delta Force, and very adept in his skills of killing. The man was as dedicated to their cause as Salkukoff himself.
“We can no longer pretend that this mission will not get out to those who can do us harm. We have lost the source, and we must shut down operations on a permanent basis.” He shook his head. “It is a shame. We could have recovered far more of the resource material than we have. But alas, we have garnered too much attention. This Colonel Collins, despite what our superiors believe, is no fool. Nor are the people he works for. It wouldn’t take them long to add up two plus two.”
“Orders?” the black-clad commando asked.
“We will contact Dolphin and make arrangements for the destruction of the Simbirsk. There will be no recovery. Better to sink her here than take a chance on the Americans or some other NATO member recovering her wreck in the deep waters of home.” He smiled as he turned away and looked up into the bridge once more. “At least here it is unrecoverable. Mission complete.”
“What will Northstar command say about shutting down the diamond operations?” the commando asked.
Salkukoff lost his smile. “As far as they are concerned, comrade, the mine played out and we lost the cooperation of the Wasakoo. The situation was unavoidable.” He faced his specialized killer once more, the very man who had hanged kindly Professor Gervais. “I don’t know about you, but I am tired of being a delivery boy. I have other plans, as you do also.”
“Yes, Colonel. It’s time to make our mark with the Northstar Committee as soon as we get home. We have wasted quite enough time here in this backward world.”
Salkukoff held the man’s gaze for a full thirty seconds. “The spilling of Russian blood is always, well, let’s say, difficult. Necessary, but most difficult.”
“Northstar has taught us well, Colonel.”
“Yes, yes, they have, Captain. I will try to isolate Captain Kreshenko from the rest of his crew. They cannot be trusted to see the light. They are loyalists to a fault and will follow that man anywhere.”
“Dishlakov?” the commando asked as he stood beside Salkukoff.
“I’ll leave that to you. Make it as efficient as always, my friend.”
The commando chuckled as if the man couldn’t be serious. He turned away and left the colonel alone.
Salkukoff watched the bridge once more. He finally turned away and brought up a small device he had on him at all times. The electronic sending unit used low-frequency bandwidths and was virtually undetectable by listening ears. He started typing out his message on the small keyboard: To Dolphin, Operation Clean Seas has been authorized. Stand by for orders.
He replaced the device into his pocket, and with a final look at the battle bridge, he moved off for his last few hours on board Peter the Great, as he knew by this time tomorrow, the great warship would be sitting on the bottom of this upside-down world. And Simbirsk and Shiloh would share that same watery grave.
19
Jack was dreaming of Sarah and, strangely enough, the small green alien they had lost during the Overlord operation, Matchstick. It was disturbing in the fact that Collins rarely dreamed at all. His mind was so tired that his brain completely ran on in a direction of its own accord. While Sarah said little in the dream, it was the recurring words of the small green alien that kept echoing in his dream over and over again. Matchstick was sitting on Sarah’s lap as he did quite often in the long days and nights of debriefing the alien after Arizona. It seemed Matchstick opened up when he was in her lap, as if he were comfortable and trusting of the small geologist far more than any other.
“You are not alone, Colonel Jack; you are not alone. Friends, friends, friends, everywhere.” In the dream, Matchstick would look straight at him while repeating the same words over and over. Then he did the strangest thing. As a gift to Matchstick after his debriefing was completed, Jack and the security department had given him a copy of the Beatles’ greatest hits. The small alien had fallen in love with “Octopus’s Garden.” In the dream, he kept singing in his raspy, cotton-filled voice, “I’d like to be, under the sea, in an octopus’s garden, in the shade.”
The knock on the door woke him. He sat up in the bed and looked around, not knowing exactly where he was. The knock sounded once again. Finally, he knew, and the dream he had been having faded, with the exception of that silly Beatles song.
“Come!” he said louder than he wanted.
A marine opened his door, and Henri Farbeaux stepped inside.
The cabin was small but offered the creature comforts as Henri came in and flipped on the desk lamp. Jack sat up and placed his bare feet on the tiled floor. He looked at his wristwatch and saw that he had been sleeping for six hours, much to his shock. He placed both palms on his eyes and rubbed them. He shook his head until his vision cleared and then saw that the Frenchman was offering him a cup of coffee.
“It’s not the seventy-five-year-old coffee from Simbirsk, but American dark roast will have to do.”